


Ashless

by ShinyRoothoot



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 14:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20726066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinyRoothoot/pseuds/ShinyRoothoot
Summary: He touched their lives with his friendship, led them on epic adventures, and supported them in pursuit of their dreams. But what would've happened to them if that dear friend never was.





	1. Unsensational

“Hmpf, not even a nibble.”

Growing more impatient by the second, the lone, young redhead contemplated her situation. She had been sitting at the edge of this rocky bank, fishing rod in hand, for what seemed like ages, and had nothing to show for it.

Back in Viridian City, while having her Pokémon checked at the Pokémon Center, she had overheard rumors of a mysterious Water-type Pokémon that lived in a nameless lake on Route 1, just south of the city. Excited by the story and determined to find and capture the cryptic creature, she raced down as quickly as she could on her bike, wind at her back.

That was three days ago.

Days of camping out by the lake, sleeping by night and casting her fishing line by day, had yielded paltry results—nothing rarer than schools of Magikarp.

The girl sighed, placing three fingers against her forehead and rubbing gently. The odds of finding something notable, let alone the mysterious rumored Pokémon itself, seemed to be getting slimmer and slimmer as time passed. In fact, she started to think it was more likely than not that the Pokémon in question didn’t even exist—maybe the originator of the rumor had mistook some other Pokémon for it; or perhaps, as word-of-mouth carried the rumor from curious ear to ear, subsequent trainers had embellished details until the version of the story she’d heard barely resembled the original tale.

Nevertheless, despite the lack of results making her feel a bit cranky, she didn’t even consider the thought of giving up—while she knew she might not catch anything rare even if she kept her fishing line cast forever, she also knew the one way to _guarantee_ that she wouldn’t catch anything was to reel her empty line in and quit.

And whether it was myth or fact, she knew that half the fun of pursuing mysterious rumors was discovering the truth yourself, no matter how long it took.

And so, she continued fishing, deep into the afternoon, with nothing but the sounds of the running water itself, as well as the breeze blowing around her, to keep her company.

Hours passed with still no luck, and as the sun seemed to be setting, the girl thought it was finally time to start packing up for the day.

_Oh well_, she thought to herself. _Maybe tomorrow_.

Just then, she felt a tug on her fishing line. Eyes quickly shifting, she locked her sight on the end of the line, which began to bob up and down.

“Hm? Oh. _Oh!_ Hey, I got a bite!” the girl said to no one in particular, a sudden burst of energy surging through her body. “Could this be it? The big one?”

A confident grin stretching across her face, she chuckled to herself, timing her reeling to be just right, all while making sure to keep her eyes locked on target. Fishing was all about timing, she knew all too well, and if timed right, even a petite girl such as herself could pull in a mammoth catch many times her own size.

It wasn’t like she was an amateur. Back home in Cerulean City, in the northern part of the Kanto region, she had been a dominant presence in youth fishing contests for years, capturing the sought-after first-place blue ribbon at the last three annual competitions in her age group. Of course, growing up surrounded by Water-type Pokémon 24/7, being raised in Cerulean City’s Water-type Pokémon Gym—which doubled as an aquarium and water sports arena—_and_ being the youngest of four sisters who all specialized in Water-type Pokémon and served as their hometown’s co-Gym Leaders certainly didn’t hurt.

She froze.

_My sisters…_

In an instant, her wide grin was replaced by a frown, complemented by her now-furrowed brow and clenched teeth.

“Bah!” She shook her head and continued reeling her line in.

Why did her thoughts always return to _them_? She left them behind, promising she would never return until she proved herself on a journey to become the world’s greatest Water-type Pokémon Trainer!

Until then, she was on her own.

_Sensational Sisters…_

She rolled her eyes. The day she returned to the Cerulean Gym, she knew she would prove to those airheaded divas what she was _really_ made of.

The being on the other side of the fishing line began to pull back.

The girl snapped back to attention. “Oh, no you don’t!”

With that, she chose her timing to land the catch, and then pulled with all her might. “Now!” she shouted.

Then, with a massive splash of water, a large, scaly serpentine Pokémon emerged and roared its terrifying, earth-shattering roar, echoing throughout the valley.

The moment she laid eyes on the creature, her blood turned cold.

“G-Gyarados?!” she blurted out.

Time itself seemed to stop as she froze in place.

_Gyarados?! _

_The Pokémon from the rumor was a Gyarados?! _

She shivered.

_Why did it have to be a Gyarados?_

Involuntarily, her thoughts raced back to a scene from her childhood, always lurking in the back of her mind—the day a Gyarados at the Cerulean Gym almost ate her alive. Ever since that day, her fear of the vicious-looking Pokémon had been unconquerable.

“_Gyaaaaaarrrrrr!_ ”

The earth itself seemed to quake.

Instantly, the girl snapped out of her thoughts, finding herself still staring down the creature’s furious eyes from her childhood nightmares. Then, without thinking further, the girl dropped her fishing rod, turned around, and sprinted full-speed toward her bike, screaming as loud as she could, flailing her arms wildly in the air.

But unbeknownst to her, the Gyarados was one step ahead.

Before she could reach her bike, the girl found herself forcefully blown back and onto the ground by a powerful burst, blinded by its awesome energy.

Ears ringing, the girl slowly opened her eyes, which then widened upon the sight before her.

Her bike was no more, completely incinerated by the beast’s Hyper Beam attack, nothing more than a blackened crater where it once was.

“M-my bike!”

Gripped by total fear and panic, the girl took off running, leaving some of her belongings behind—rod; campsite; everything but her bag, containing the Poké Balls which she found herself too deathly afraid to use to go on offense. Where she was running, she didn’t care; as long as it was far, _far_ away from that Gyarados.

_Why couldn’t it have been another harmless Magikarp?_

_Or something cute, like a Goldeen?_

Above her, dark clouds assembled in the sky, promptly unleashing a torrent of fierce rain which obscured the tears pouring down her own face. Before long, the sudden, heavy downpour was joined by the deafening sound of booming thunderclaps.

_Even catching a dumb kid, swimming in the way of my line, would’ve been better than this…_

* * *

_A few months later._

Cerulean City—the beautiful aquatic metropolis, glowing with its cool blue aura. Laid back and easygoing, its city dwellers busied themselves, merrily traipsing up and down cobblestone pathways, gawking at assorted wares in the marketplace or making their way from one landmark or low-rent tourist trap to the next.

But amidst the tranquil atmosphere and happy faces, there walked a lone, dour figure, shoulders slumped low, carrying herself as if a metaphorical storm cloud stalked her in perpetuity. Her orange hair unkempt, her yellow top ratty, and her body emitting a funky, pungent smell, the girl walked forward, eyes to the ground, ignoring any and all eye contact, uncaring if anyone recognized her.

Months before, she left this city, pledging never to return until she was the number one Water-type Pokémon Trainer in the entire world, a Water-type Pokémon Master—a lofty goal, she knew, but one she had been determined to strive for.

But she never seemed to be able to catch a break, she thought, as if the universe had conspired to crush her dreams at every opportunity.

Alone, she wandered the Kanto region, legs and feet in a seemingly permanent state of aching due to the lack of her bike, in search for Water-type Pokémon to catch and train into her team of future champions. But luck averted her at every turn, and without her trusty fishing rod—also lost to that horrible beast from that nameless lake—the girl’s team of Pokémon partners remained completely unchanged from the day she left home. Arrogant trainers picked on her for her petite frame and always seemed to beat her on the battlefield, as one rotten “off day” seemed to stretch on for weeks, then months, without any give.

And now, here she was again—walking the streets of the home she left, and with nothing but failure to show for her journeying.

Her mind immediately drifted to her sisters, and the things she knew they would say to her when she walked back into that gym.

_“Looks like the runt’s back.”_

_“Hey, Misty, I thought you weren’t, like, going to come back until you became a great Pokémon Trainer, ’cause you couldn’t compare with us!”_

_“Yeah, little sister, that’s what you said. Did you decide to quit already?”_

_“I mean, like, I guess it’s true that you’re not only not as talented or beautiful as us, but you’re also not as good a Pokémon Trainer as any of us!”_

The girl scowled deeply, grinding her teeth as the mocking voices in her head played on a loop, the sound of their jeering giving her a splitting headache.

“Toge! Togeprrrrrrrri!”

In an instant, the gloomy girl snapped out of her grating thoughts, and turned her head to the strange cry.

There, standing before her, was a tanned, brown-haired boy with a small, rounded Pokémon, its head sticking out of its eggshell casing, sitting in his arms.

Misty cocked an eyebrow at the little creature—she had never seen a Pokémon like it in her travels.

“What is it, Togepi?” the boy said, his brow arched. “You hungry?”

The spike ball Pokémon continued to chirp with glee, seemingly indifferent to its trainer’s inquiry.

“Togepi?” Misty said to herself, her inner thoughts unintentionally blurting out loud.

As the Pokémon turned and locked eyes with the onlooking girl, its voice suddenly ceased, and time itself seemed to slow to a halt. A tingling feeling rippled through Misty’s body, and an outbreak of goosebumps coated her bare arms and legs, though she didn’t know why.

For what felt like forever, the girl and the Pokémon stared wordlessly into each other’s eyes. She felt a warm, familiar aura coming off the wholly unfamiliar Pokémon.

“Uh, excuse me? Can I help you, miss?”

Misty felt a jolt as she snapped her head away and met eyes with the source of the new voice—the Togepi’s trainer.

“Huh?” Misty shook her head. “Oh, no, it’s nothing,” she finally replied. “That’s a really cute Pokémon you’ve got there. I guess I was just lost in thought.” She giggled. “I wish I had a cutie like that.”

“Um, thanks, I guess,” the boy said, gripping his Pokémon tighter, eyes locked on the disheveled girl.

“So, where’d you get it?”

“Huh? Um, well, I found its egg in a canyon while I was digging for fossils, and, uh, well…”

Largely ignoring the boy’s words, Misty couldn’t help but notice the curious expression from before had not yet left the Pokémon’s face. “Can I hold it?” she asked.

The boy took a step backward. “Well, uh, actually, Togepi and I gotta get going, miss. So, uh, see ya.”

As if by instinct, Misty found herself stretching her arm out longingly after the boy turned and started walking—a bit faster than others in the street were—away from her.

But though the distance between the two grew, Misty couldn’t help but hear the boy mutter under his breath, “What a weirdo, huh, Togepi?”

Her blood started boiling, and she readied herself to shout “_What did you say, kid?! _” in her harshest voice, but before she could get the words out, she noticed a handful of covert glances aimed in her direction and sheepishly averted her eyes, sighed, and then started walking in the opposite direction, tears starting to well in her eyes as she caught a glimpse of Cerulean Gym looming in the distance.


	2. Rockin'

With each passing second, the sun descended through the clouds, its gradual disappearance turning the sky’s hue from a warm, glowing orange to a deep, dark blue, soon to be illuminated only by the lights emitted from homes and offices in the city, as well as the natural moonlight rising on the opposite end of the sky and the multitude of shimmering stars.

There was a still quiet in the air—a feeling of peace and tranquility, undisturbed and uninterrupted by rustling or chirping of any kind, like the world itself had been placed in a state of suspended animation.

But the peace and quiet was not to last.

Gliding through the air, faintly visible in the sky as the sun completely set, was a hot air balloon humming in the breeze as it inched northward. The shape of the nylon balloon was that of a Pokémon—Meowth—and perched in the green wicker basket were three figures, one much shorter than the other two.

“Well, well, there’s our target—Viridian City,” a sharp but feminine voice said, her piercing eyes gazing out at the cityscape peaking over the woods. The voice’s owner was a tall uniformed woman with an impressive mane of long, magenta-colored hair. “We’ll show these bumpkins,” she added, glancing to her side.

The second figure, an equally tall man in a matching white uniform, head topped with a mop of medium-length lavender hair, grinned and chuckled to himself, a red rose delicately held in one hand and a pocket-sized mirror in the other. “The people of Viridian City will be sorry they ever saw _this_ face.”

Just then, the third figure revealed itself—a Meowth. It opened its eyes, extended its claws, and then, without hesitation, spoke. “Nyah, we’re _all_ sorry to see your face.”

Neither of the two humans batted an eye at the human-speaking Meowth. As it seemed, they were used to the strange scratch-cat Pokémon and its extraordinary technique.

“Stay focused,” the Pokémon continued. “We’re here to capture rare and unusual Pokémon—don’t forget. _Meeeeowth!_ ”

“Absolutely,” the woman replied.

The man nodded. “But of course.”

“And don’t forget—I’m da top cat!”

Several minutes passed as the trio closed in on their target—the Viridian City Pokémon Center.

They went over the plan again: Come in from above; break in through the roof with their Pokémon; take the Pokémon Center’s nurse hostage to prevent any interference, inside or out; make it to the Pokémon storage rooms in the back of the Center; clear it out; and then finally make the getaway.

As long as the nurse was alone and defenseless, as she’d surely be at this late evening hour, the plan, they believed, was full-proof.

Just as the balloon had finally made it to the Pokémon Center and was hovering just overhead, an alarm started blaring, and soon a voice echoed over a city-wide intercom system.

“_Your attention please! Our Viridian City radar sensors have detected an aircraft belonging to a gang of Pokémon thieves! If you have a Pokémon in your possession, exercise extreme caution!_ ”

The woman snickered. “Guess we woke up this sleepy dump.”

“And how _dare_ they act like we’re criminals?” the man added with a scowl, a touch of incredulity in his voice. “They should _welcome_ Team Rocket.”

“Well, we’ll teach them to respect that name.”

“_Meeeowth!_ And when we snatch all their Pokémon, those scared little mice will know I’m da top cat!”

“We know, Meowth. We know.” The two humans rolled their eyes and grabbed the Poké Balls attached to their belts. “Ekans! Koffing! _Attack!_ ” They hurled the balls down, aiming for a small skylight on the Center’s roof, and grinned when the balls smashed through, right on target.

As plumes of dark smoke came flowing out of the skylight, the trio looked at each other and nodded. “Well, that’s our cue.”

In no time flat, they descended into the building and found themselves faced with the Pokémon Center’s pink-haired nurse, who stood frozen in alarm. Eyes darting around the smoky room, the trio felt reassured—their assumption seemed to be right; the nurse _was_ alone.

“Who are you?” the nurse asked.

“Allow us to introduce ourselves,” the man said from behind his Koffing’s thick smoke.

The woman nodded, and began their team’s motto. “To protect the world from devastation.”

“To unite all peoples within our nation,” the man added.

“To denounce the evils of true and love.”

“To extend our reach to the stars above.”

“_Jessie._”

“_James._”

“Team Rocket, blast off at the speed of light!”

“Surrender now, or prepare to fight!”

“_Meeeowth!_ ” the scratch-cat Pokémon added, sticking its landing in between its fellow team members. “That’s right!”

As all the smoke cleared away, the nurse was faced directly with the trio, flanked by their Koffing and Ekans glaring across the room at her. Nevertheless, despite being outnumbered, she stood firmly.

“What is this all about?!” she asked the gangsters.

“We’re here for the Pokémon,” James said, taking a few steps forward, starting to close the gap between the nurse and Team Rocket. “We seek rare and valuable Pokémon.”

Jessie jabbed a finger in the nurse’s direction. “So hand them over!”

“You’re wasting your time,” the nurse replied, a look of both disgust and despair on her face. “This is a Center for weak and injured Pokémon!”

“Well, that may be so,” Jessie said slyly, “but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we find a few little Pokémon gems among all the _junk_.”

The nurse dug in her heels and gritted her teeth. “I’m not going to let you steal the Pokémon in my care.”

“Bad move, Joy,” James said, shaking his head and wagging a finger. He slipped a gas mask on, as did Jessie and Meowth. “Koffing!” he ordered. “Gas the room with Smog attack!”

Jessie followed up. “Ekans, restrain her!”

The nurse took off running, desperate to avoid the poisonous gas that was filling up the room.

“Eeeeeekans!” the snake Pokémon hissed, hurling full-speed ahead, plowing through the main computer stationed at the central desk, only missing the nurse by a hair.

“Don’t let her escape, Ekans!” Jessie said. “I said restrain her!”

Breathing heavily, Nurse Joy turned a sharp corner.

_If I can get to the storage room and lock the door_, she thought to herself, _they’ll have no chance! It’s air-tight, so their gas won’t get through! Then, I can alert the Viridian Police Department!_

“_Sssssekans!_ ”

Suddenly, just steps away from the door to the storage room, Joy felt a powerful force strike her back, and she found herself tumbling down to the floor.

“Good job, Ekans! Now use Wrap attack!”

The snake Pokémon quickly coiled its body around the collapsed nurse, and squeezed tightly.

“Aaagh!” the nurse cried, her eyes only partially open as the trio approached her.

“Close, but not close enough,” James sneered. “Now, Koffing, use Smog and knock her out.”

“No! _Aargh!_ I’m not going to let you—_aaaaagh!_—get away with—_aarghhhhhh!_ ”

Joy wiggled with all her might, trying to fight Ekans’s constriction, but the pain with each squeeze was too intense. As Koffing readied its Smog attack in her face, she found herself unable to cover up. Within seconds of the attack being launched, she was reduced to a violent coughing fit.

And before long, her cries and protests were silenced as she lost consciousness.

Lording over her motionless body, the Team Rocket trio looked at one another, nodded, and made their way through the door before them, marveling at all the Poké Balls ripe for stealing.

“All right, Koffing, just in case, I want you to gas this room, too,” James said. He then turned to Meowth. “Meowth, you go cut the power!”

“Gotcha!”

Just then, they heard a robotic voice coming from a computer system in the room.

“_A crisis situation has arisen! Initiating emergency Poké Ball transport sequence!_ ”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Jessie shouted, watching as a robotic arm began reaching toward the Poké Ball-packed shelves that lined the room. “Ekans, destroy that arm and the computer system!”

Without a second to waste, Ekans sprang into action, successfully severing the robotic arm before it could transport the first Poké Ball, before then slamming itself into the transporter system, breaking it.

“Nice work, Ekans!” Jessie said, pumping her fist. “All right, James, let’s start collecting these Poké Balls.”

“Roger!” James replied.

Outside of the room, the two heard popping sounds as the lights went out, covering them in pitch-black darkness.

Jessie smirked. “Looks like Meowth found the generator.”

Just then, they heard a spark crackle and turned to face a room visible behind a wall of glass. As the lights returned, they saw a gaggle of Pikachu running around in circles, powering what appeared to be the Center’s backup generator.

Then, another alarm starting blaring—this time throughout the entire Pokémon Center.

Jessie gritted her teeth. “Drat! The police will be here any minute.” She turned to her Pokémon. “Ekans, slam through that glass!”

“Right! And Koffing, you use Smog to knock out those Pikachu!” James added.

The two Pokémon obeyed, crashing through the glass and subsequently gassing the room. Before they knew what hit them, all the Pikachu drifted into unconsciousness. Instantly, the lights went out again, as did the alarm.

Jessie and James glanced at each other, grins stretching across their faces.

“Well, that was easy,” Jessie said.

James nodded. “Just how I like it.”

Moments later, Meowth walked casually to their sides. “Nyah, well, what’re we waiting for?” the Pokémon said. “Come on! Let’s get to swiping these Pokémon! Da cops are gonna be here soon!”

“Right!” Jessie and James replied in unison.

In five minutes flat, the gang managed to clear out all the walls in the Center’s storage room, bagging all the Pokémon, including the generator Pikachu and a Chansey who had been hiding, and make it back into their balloon.

As the balloon rose and drifted further northward, the police were nowhere to be seen, their sirens still blaring far in the distance, growing quieter and quieter as the balloon proceeded on its course.

“Well, it looks like we win again, James,” Jessie said. “We’re on our way to Promotion City! They’ll make us executives, no doubt!”

“Indeed,” James replied. “After a successful crop like this, the boss is sure to promote us beyond rural duty.” He looked down at their canvas bags, filled to the brim with Poké Balls. “And even if there isn’t a gem in any of these Poké Balls, you can certainly equip a lot of new recruits with the junk.”

“Nyah, da boss is gonna be very pleased!” Meowth said, filing his nails. “And I’m gonna curl up with him by da fireplace. That’s what da top cat deserves!”

“Here’s to victory!” Jessie said, raising her fist in the air. “All Pokémon exist for the glory of Team Rocket!”

“Here, here!” James added, mirroring the gesture.

“_Meeeeeeeeowth!_ ”

* * *

_One year later._

“Well, what is the status report?”

The scientist bit his lower lip as he tried to conjure up an appropriate answer to that question. But, at the same time, he couldn’t help but think: _Why should I have to answer that question?_

Shoulders slumped and eyes bloodshot, he was less than enthused by the arrangement they were in, and believed his colleagues, including the head doctor, Fuji, probably shared his thoughts. Having to constantly answer the same questions over and over again from those who weren’t knowledgeable enough to understand the answers in the first place was beneath him and his fellow researchers—heck, even if he answered their questions, surely they wouldn’t understand, and then they’d take out their ignorant frustration on him.

While it was fantastic that Giovanni, the head of Team Rocket, was financing Dr. Fuji’s cloning research, the scientist believed, having to deal with his trio of so-called executives was another story.

“Stable progress,” he finally replied, swallowing his inner distaste. “You can report to Giovanni that his ultimate clone is in stable condition. In fact, it’s possible we’ll be getting some very important data points shortly.”

“Excellent,” one of the Rocket executives replied, brushing his lavender hair out of his eyes.

“Good,” his female partner added. “Now, keep up your progress, and we’ll _all_ have good news to report to the boss.”

A Meowth stepped forward, looking up directly into the scientist’s eyes. “Nyah, now don’t go screwin’ up again. My tail’s on da line here, and da boss is gettin’ tired of your failed clones. Screwin’ up on da big one’s not gonna fly, got it?”

“His trust is not misplaced,” the scientist replied, before adjusting his tie and glancing at his pager. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the doctor has arrived and I’ll need to update him.”

“Well, what do you think, Jessie?” the male executive asked his partner just as the scientist was out of earshot. “The boss ordered us to supervise this operation until its completion, but he also said we’d be responsible for ensuring that it’s not another failure.”

“Oh, can it, James,” she replied. “The boss trusted us with this because he knows how good we are—the same reason we got this promotion in the first place.” Crossing her arms, she smirked. “I mean, we’ve had a perfect record ever since the Viridian heist.”

“She’s right, Jimmy-boy,” Meowth added. “And don’t forget, we even bumped those two wannabes from Team Rocket, like youse two’ve wanted since da academy. We’re da boss’s top agents!”

Jessie couldn’t help but laugh. “Ya know, Meowth, now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve had a better day since the boss kicked Cassidy and Biff to the curb,” she said. “I mean, I doubt they could’ve pulled off that breeding center scheme like we did.”

“No doubt,” James said with a chuckle. “It feels good to be on top.”

Suddenly, the automatic doors to the laboratory flew open and two men in pristine lab coats made their way in. Around the room, numerous scientists busied themselves with the task at hand, bathed in an orange light emanating from across the room. The trio wordlessly took notice.

“So, how are they doing today?” a man with tall, wild hair and a pointy goatee asked. It was Dr. Fuji, the esteemed cloning scientist personally chosen by Giovanni himself for the task at hand.

“You should be very pleased, Doctor,” the younger scientist replied. “The Pokémon clones are in stable condition and Mewtwo’s getting stronger every day. One of them is bound to survive. It looks like all our hard work is finally paying off.”

Fuji took a look at the chambers. There were five of them; four contained Pokémon, submerged in liquid and hooked up to sensor wires—Charmandertwo, Squirtletwo, Bulbasaurtwo, and the centerpiece of the scientists’ research: Mewtwo.

“Yes, Giovanni will be very happy, I’m sure,” he replied, stroking his goatee. “He may soon have the most powerful Pokémon in the world, but I’ll get something much more precious.” He took a breath. “Knowledge—of how to recreate life. Then—” He paused, then turned to the fifth chamber, containing a glowing pink aura. “I’ll use it to bring _her_ back.”

The trio rolled their eyes.

“That old coot better not forget his top priority,” Jessie said, arms crossed, glaring at the doctor.

“Right,” James said, curling his right hand into a fist. “He’s being paid to create powerful Pokémon for the boss, not finance his own side projects!”

“Oh, never mind,” Meowth replied. “Da more clones he makes, da more things we can take credit for!”

James cocked his eyebrow. “Hmm, what exactly are you getting at, Meowth?”

“Think about it. Da boss is only expecting one supped up, primo Pokémon, right?”

“Right,” the two replied, nodding hesitantly.

“So, what do ya think he’ll say if we tell him we can clone humans, too?” Meowth said before closing his eyes. “Picture it—we can clone da boss an army of Team Rocket agents to do his bidding. And you know what he’ll say? ‘I will never be able to fully express my gratitude to Meowth and his friends for filling up Team Rocket’s ranks with da best of da best. No doubt, da only way I could properly reward them for giving me both da strongest Pokémon and an endless supply of top-tier recruits would be to cede my position as supreme leader of Team Rocket to them! Surely, they will rule the world even better than I can!’ ”

“Yippie!” James squealed, bursting with enthusiasm. “I’ll be the king of the world!”

“And I’ll be the queen!” Jessie added with a wink.

“And, I guess, I’ll be da joker.” Meowth extended his claws and flashed a sharp grin. “Da joker of crime!”

_“We’re losing all readings from Charmandertwo.”_

_“No, not again!”_

Suddenly, alarms sounded, and the trio snapped out of their thoughts.

Meowth whipped his head around. “Huh? Hey, what gives?”

“Bulbasaurtwo and Squirtletwo are fading the same way,” one scientist seated by her computer said.

Another put his head in his hands and sighed. “It looks like another failure.”

“What do you mean, failure?!” Jessie shouted, grabbing James by his collar. “James, do something!”

“What do you expect _me_ to do?” he replied, aghast. “I’m not a scientist!”

In the cloning chambers, three of the Pokémon clone bodies quickly dematerialized until nothing remained. Dr. Fuji stood frozen in front of a different chamber, hand pressed against it, as the strange pink aura inside started to dim.

“Doctor, we’re—we’re losing _her_, too.”

Motionless, but for a single tear, Fuji’s head sank as his voice fell to a whisper. “Amber…”

The alarms increased in volume as the graphs and figures on the computer monitors began flashing and moving rapidly.

“Doctor! Mewtwo’s brainwaves are out of control!”

Instantly, Fuji snapped out of his trance. “It’s getting too upset! It mustn’t remember this! Administer the serum! Do it immediately!”

“I’ll try 100 units,” a scientist replied. She started typing furiously. “Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty. Sixty…”

Suddenly, Meowth leaped toward the keyboard, scratching the scientist. “You humans are gonna cost me my meal ticket!” he snapped. “Now, get outta my way. I’ll save da boss’s Pokémon! Leave it to Meowth!”

Fuji’s eyes widened in horror. “What are you doing, you stupid cat! Don’t touch that!”

But it was too late. As Meowth pushed every button on the keyboard, Mewtwo’s brainwaves started to decrease. Then, the waves became gray, and the ultimate Pokémon’s body deteriorated in its chamber before everyone’s eyes.

“N-no,” Fuji said, his voice staggering. “_No!_ ” He grabbed Meowth by the neck. “Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve destroyed my work! You’ve _killed_ Mewtwo!”

Jessie and James suddenly snapped to attention, ceasing their bickering. “Wait, what?” they said in unison. “Mewtwo? Killed?”

Digging his nails into his head and gritting his teeth, with Meowth still in his right-hand grasp, Dr. Fuji glared at the duo. “You did this! Your Meowth killed Giovanni’s Mewtwo with his foolishness! Some executives you hacks are.”

Before the duo could say anything in reply, another alarm sounded; but this one was the phone-line.

“Doctor, it’s—it’s Giovanni,” a female scientist said.

Fuji threw Meowth across the room, directly into the arms of Jessie and James. “Well then, put him through,” he said, a hint of venom in his voice. “I’m sure he’ll be very interested in the job his ‘top executives’ have done for this operation.”

Gulping hard and legs quaking, the trio soon found themselves faced with the menacing glare of their boss on the monitor. From the look in his eyes, they thought, it suddenly seemed like their perfect record wouldn’t be so for very long, and their dreams of further promotion and world domination had been a bit premature.


	3. One Dream, Two Dreams

“Onix, keep up that Bind attack!”

Gazing up at his towering rock snake Pokémon, the tall, tan-skinned teenager clenched his teeth, as well as his hands, and considered his options.

Over the past two weeks, two other Pokémon Trainers hailing from the small village of Pallet Town had passed through the Pewter City Gym—his domain. The first guy, with a Charmander as his partner, had used his Pokémon’s impressive speed to overcome the type disadvantage; it had been tough to slow down the young flame lizard Pokémon, and that difficulty had made all the difference as the damage from its otherwise ineffective Fire-type attacks compounded over time. The second guy, training the Grass-type Bulbasaur, had surprisingly played the battle much more cautiously, despite having the advantage over his Rock-types; nevertheless, the trainer coolly held firm under all attacks and near-effortlessly knocked out his Geodude and Onix.

And now, the Gym Leader was faced with the third Pokémon Trainer from Pallet, and this guy’s skillset was a combination of the two previous trainers’ and more—fast, firm, and above all, powerful, all in one.

Furrowing his thick brow, the leader tried to keep his eyes and mind on his target—the trainer’s Squirtle—and made sure he didn’t let his challenger see him sweat. He knew the Water-type was bad news for his Onix if it could make contact with its attacks, so his only hope was to try to squeeze the energy out of it and constrict its ability to launch them. However, try as the he did, he couldn’t help but be impressed as the young challenger and his partner showed off a degree of crispness and fluidity in their battling that seemed much more advanced than that of a freshly-registered newbie.

“Squirtle, withdraw into your shell, then use Water Gun!” the opposing trainer ordered, without even a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

The Pokémon swiftly obeyed and, before long, Onix was dealt a powerful burst of water to its face.

“_Ga-rooooooarrr!_ ” Onix roared in pain as Squirtle successfully slipped out of the binding grasp of its tail, back-flipping through the air.

“All right, Squirtle, one more Water Gun!”

As the water blasts connected directly once again, Onix finally lost its balance and came careening down, crashing into the rocky battlefield at full force.

“Onix!” the leader called out in anguish.

But it was all over.

Before the leader’s eyes, his mighty Onix laid defeated, twitching on the ground, a mini lake pooling around the rock snake Pokémon. After a deep sigh, he nodded his head, reached for his belt, and recalled his defeated Pokémon to its Poké Ball. “Nice job, Onix,” he said. “You did well and gave it your best shot. Take a nice rest.”

With that, he walked over to the victorious challenger, who had already recalled his Squirtle to its Poké Ball as well, and reached into his pocket.

“As proof of your victory, I, Brock, on behalf of the Pewter City Pokémon Gym, present to you the Boulder Badge, an official badge authorized by the Pokémon League,” he said, his solid figure standing like a wall of granite towering over his challenger, as he handed over his gym’s simple gray-colored badge. “Congratulations.”

Taking the badge in hand, the challenger bowed his head. “Thank you for the battle, sir,” he said before pulling out a case and placing the badge inside.

“You know, you recent trainers from Pallet Town are tough,” Brock said. “Never before have I found myself on the losing end three battles in a row.”

The trainer’s eyes narrowed as he nodded. “Yeah, well, there may have been three of us who left Pallet Town that day, but only one of us is going to the top,” he said, preparing to turn toward the exit. “And that’s going to be me—Gary Oak.”

His expression firm and unchanging, Brock nodded back. “You’ve got talent, kid, but you’ve only won one official match. Your Squirtle’s tough; so is your Nidoran. I can tell you’re taking good care of them, and that they’re going to grow into very strong and healthy Pokémon.” Then, Brock grinned. “If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of food do you feed your Pokémon?”

“Huh?” Gary replied, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, well, it’s actually just Gramps’s own recipe. Being a professor, he taught me all about Pokémon diet and hygiene growing up so I’d be ready when I set out on my journey.”

Brock nodded. “I see. That’s good to hear. Different Pokémon have different tastes, and getting the right blend is key to properly nurturing a healthy Pokémon.” He crossed his arms. “I didn’t get a great close-up look at your Pokémon during the battle, but it seems like you’ve done a great job keeping their outward appearance as healthy as their inner. In fact—”

“Uh, excuse me, sir,” Gary interrupted, his head tilted in confusion. “Not to cut off your praise of me, but you’re a Gym Leader, right?”

Brock cocked his eyebrow. “Erm, what exactly are you suggesting?”

“Well, you’re sounding more like Gramps or a Pokémon Breeder than like a Gym Leader, if I’m being honest.”

“Uh, _well_—” Brock prepared to deflect, nervously rubbing his hand on the back of his head.

Deep down, he knew what he wanted in life—and that his current gig wasn’t it. But he also knew with his good-for-nothing father out of the picture and his mother always away on her extravagant trips to indulge in her constantly changing hobbies—her most-recent one a quest to study astrological signs—he couldn’t leave his siblings to pursue anything else; leaving home was out of the question. Like it or not, he was a Gym Leader, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

And yet, he could still dream.

“Hmm,” Brock sighed, composing himself. “You know what, Gary? You are a pretty smart kid.”

Gary rolled his eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Ignoring the boy’s comment, Brock turned away, leaned his head back, and took a good look around his gym. After a brief moment of quiet, he spoke up. “You’re close, kid. I’m not a professional Pokémon Breeder.” He took a breath. “But I’d like to be one.”

“Huh, what?” Gary was bewildered. “Why would you ever want to be a Pokémon Breeder when you’re a Gym Leader? You’d give up such a great position to pursue something so detached from battling?”

Brock turned his narrow gaze back to Gary’s eyes. “To tell you the truth, kid, being a Gym Leader isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he said. “And besides, don’t knock breeding just because it’s not as outwardly combative and competitive as battling.” Then, he grinned. “In fact, based on that battle I just saw and how healthy your Pokémon looked, with some time, _you_ could become a truly fine Pokémon Breeder, kid.”

“Me? A Pokémon Breeder? Pfft, yeah, o~kay,” Gary said sarcastically, before becoming serious again. “I’m going to become the Pokémon League Champion, Mr. Brock—_that’s_ my only goal.”

_Oh well_, Brock concluded, lightly shaking his head. _I guess it can’t be helped._

“Well, in that case, champ-in-the-making, I look forward to hearing about your future success—yours and your Pokémon’s,” Brock said. “But don’t get cocky, because there are a lot of strong trainers out there.”

“But none of them are Gary Oak,” the trainer shot back without missing a beat. “Anyway, I’m outta here. I’ve got more Pokémon to catch and train, more battles to win, and more badges to claim.” With that, Gary turned and started to make his way to the exit.

“Just one more thing, kid,” Brock said, causing Gary to stop in his tracks. “There were three trainers who left Pallet Town on the same day, you said—one of them’s you, and the other two were the guys I battled over the last few weeks. So, let me ask you: does it worry you that you were the last of the Pallet trainers to win a badge?”

“No,” Gary replied, his back to Brock. “Because at the end of the day, while they’re busy rushing ahead, trying to win a relay with a sprint, my Pokémon and I will be the ones with all the real training and experience under our belts. If those two don’t figure that out soon, then I won’t even be seeing them at the Indigo Plateau.”

With an affirmative wave of his hand, Gary continued his way to the exit and stepped out of the gym, shutting the door behind him.

“Hmmm.” Rubbing his chin, brushing light traces of early facial hair, Brock found himself lost in thought.

Above all, he thought about that trainer. He was more surprised by the trainer’s personality than by just his skill. Yeah, the kid had an ego, but so did any brand-new trainer. Then again, not all trainers were the grandchildren of the esteemed Professor Oak. Come to think of it, wasn’t the mayor of Pallet Town an Oak, too? Oh, whatever; it didn’t matter. The point, Brock thought to himself, was that for a presumably spoiled kid from a famous and well-connected family, his manners and tone were surprisingly mature, and he talked pretty seriously about working hard for his goal of success, rather than about waiting for it to be handed to him. _Trying to win a relay with a sprint_, he had said of the other two—a little bit deeper of a thought than surface-level. He’d expected more of a brat—a self-obsessed smug bastard to put it more specifically.

Brock paused his thoughts on that note.

Okay, that kid _was_ a self-obsessed smug bastard, he concluded, but his confidence wasn’t completely without merit. With a drive and a surprising amount of discipline for a kid his age, perhaps his dream of becoming a champion wasn’t a complete impossibility.

_Even with a slow start, maybe he can still make his true dream come true if he works hard enough to make it happen._

Brock took one more look around the gym, then nodded.

_And maybe, so can I._

* * *

_A few weeks later._

Brock sat still on his rocky platform overlooking the battlefield of the Pewter Gym, his legs folded, eyes shut, and mind deep in contemplative thought. It was the middle of the night, and the gym was cloaked in pitch-black darkness but for one single lighting fixture directly above his head. His brothers and sisters had long been put to bed, and he had changed into his matching blue-trimmed gray tank top and shorts, but he couldn’t sleep. Mind racing, the Pewter Gym Leader couldn’t help but think back to his last few battles—particularly the latest one against Professor Oak’s grandson.

There hadn’t been a single new challenger since that battle; and without challengers to keep him occupied outside of daily chores, his mind was left to fester and his thoughts drifted instead to his wants, his dreams, his passions. And yet, there was self-doubt. He was a Gym Leader, like his father before him and grandfather before him. And Brock respected the traditions of his family more than anything; he loved his family more than anything.

Even more than any Jenny or Joy in all of the Kanto region.

_Was it selfish to even consider pursuing another path?_ he thought to himself. _What if I left home and never came back, like my good-for-nothing father?_

His teeth clenched and hands shook at the very thought.

_What if…?_

“Hey, Brock?” a voice from the darkness said, shattering the silence.

Brock jolted to attention, head instantly turning toward the source of the voice. “Forrest?” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

With that, his little brother, dressed in a light-blue shirt and teal shorts, crept out of the darkness and into the light. “Hey, bro,” he said. “Can’t sleep?”

“What are you doing up so late?” Brock asked, rising to his feet. “I put you to bed an hour ago.”

“I guess I couldn’t sleep either,” he said sheepishly. “Too much on my mind to sit still, I guess.”

“Oh?”

Forrest scratched the back of his neck. “Guess that makes two of us, right?”

Though briefly taken aback, a warm smile stretched across Brock’s face. “Guess so.”

Motioning toward the rocky platform, Brock invited Forrest to take a seat.

“So, what’s on your mind, kiddo?” Brock asked as he sat back down.

“Uh, well—” Forrest paused. “You see, Brock, I can’t stop thinking about growing up and becoming a great Rock-type Pokémon Trainer; and even one day becoming the Pewter Gym Leader. But, well—” He paused again, unable to find the words he needed.

“You’ve got big dreams but don’t know if you can achieve them?”

“Huh? Hey, how’d you—”

Brock put a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “You and me both, kiddo.”

Forrest was stunned. “Huh? What do you mean? Don’t you like being the Pewter Gym Leader, Brock?”

“Well, it’s not that I don’t want to be the Gym Leader anymore,” Brock said. “It’s just that I have other dreams, too, that I’ve always thought about. But with mom and dad being, well, _you know_, I could never leave the gym, because I would never leave you all.”

“Oh,” Forrest replied, turning his head away. Then after a moment of silence, he turned back to his brother. “So, what’s your dream?”

Brock took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, you see, I’ve always wanted to become a great Pokémon Breeder.”

“Pokémon Breeder?” Forrest asked.

“A Pokémon Breeder’s someone who dedicates their life to raising and nurturing Pokémon to reach their greatest potential, focusing on diet and nutrition, exercise, those kinds of things.”

“Huh, that’s sounds cool.”

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Even during gym matches I find myself examining my opponent’s Pokémon as if I _was_ a Pokémon Breeder. Especially that last challenger.” He sighed. “But that was weeks ago, and without any new challengers to keep my mind on battling, I can’t help but think about it.”

“You know what, bro?” Forrest said, rising to his feet. “When I get old enough to become a Pokémon Trainer, I can take over the gym and you can go travel and become a Pokémon Breeder! And until then, you can teach me everything I need to know to become strong like you!”

Brock chuckled. “So, you wanna become a master of Rock-type Pokémon, eh?”

“Yeah!” Forrest said, pumping his fist. “I just hope I can become as great as you someday. And then, we’ll be the top Pokémon Trainer and the top Pokémon Breeder in the world!”

“You know, kiddo,” Brock said, “I like the sound of that.”

“So, does that mean you’ll train me?” Forrest said, his heart starting to race.

Brock ruffled Forrest’s spiky hair. “Sure thing, kiddo. If that’s your dream, then I think you’re going to become a great Gym Leader—one Pewter City can be truly proud of.”

“And your dream, Brock?”

Brock nodded. “Yeah, I guess I won’t give up on my dreams either,” he said. “I’ll train hard to become the world’s greatest Pokémon Breeder someday.”

“All right!” Forrest said, a big smile on his face. “Awesome!”

“Come on, future Gym Leader,” Brock said with a grin. “Let’s hit the sack.”

“Okay,” Forrest replied just before being overcome by a big yawn.

_Though I might have a late start, I guess I’ll nevertheless prove my worth as a Pokémon Breeder soon enough._

_After all, life’s a relay, not a sprint._


	4. Lapras and the Watcher

_Thwack!_

“_Eeeeeeeeeeeuh!_ ”

“Huh, what was that?”

The calm, tranquil aura of the tropical Tangelo Island was shattered by a shrill squeal, catching the ears of the tall, dark-haired boy. Adjusting his red headband, he started running toward the source of the pained cry of what sounded like a Pokémon in trouble. As he got closer, he started to make out shouting.

“Come on! Get up and get movin’, you stupid lump!” a gruff voice said.

“You better listen, _or else_,” said another, more nasally.

_Thwack!_

“_Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeuh!_ ” the Pokémon squealed again.

“All right, you worthless thing,” a third shouted. “If you’re not gonna to listen to us, then maybe our Pokémon can teach you a lesson about obedience.”

With that, he could hear the sound of a few Poké Balls opening.

Finally, the boy spotted them on a beach. There were three Pokémon Trainers and four Pokémon—a Hitmonchan, a Spearow, and a Beedrill, all surrounding a shivering Lapras, its downcast head pressed into the sand.

“Okay, Hitmonchan,” one of the trainers said, “let’s give this thing something to _really_ cry about.”

“_Hold it!_ ” the dark-haired boy shouted.

Instantly, all three men and their Pokémon froze in place, their eyes fixating on the intruder in their midst. Who was he and what did he want? they all thought to themselves. Was he a cop? Or was he just some punk kid trying to get in their way? Either way, they knew he could be trouble.

Without batting an eye, the boy stepped forward, reaching into his large orange backpack. “This should only take a second,” he said.

“Hey! What gives?” the spiky-haired, nasally-voiced trainer said, wielding a bat in hand.

Ignoring the trainer’s question, the boy revealed his items of choice—a roll of measuring tape and a magnifying glass—and took a knee in front of the trio’s Pokémon to begin his work as they watched with a mix of disgust and awe. Awe, of course, at the audacity of this weirdo literally sizing up their Pokémon.

After completing his examination, the boy stuffed away the tape and magnifying glass and took out a pencil and pad of paper, and positioned himself beside the Spearow. “Hmm, the feathers of your Spearow indicate it’s not getting enough vitamins,” he said as he scribbled notes on his pad. “And it could stand to lose a few pounds.”

“Huh?” the Spearow’s trainer said, taking a step back, his black sunglasses drooping down from his eyes.

Then the boy turned to the Beedrill. “The coloring on this Beedrill is pretty poor.”

The Beedrill’s bandana-clad trainer’s mouth dropped open. “Coloring? Poor?”

Finally, the boy leaned in toward Hitmonchan, who leaned back in discomfort. “And it’s obvious this Hitmonchan isn’t getting enough exercise.”

“Not enough exercise?” the third trainer said, scratching the back of his head with his free hand while still gripping the bat in his other.

“Yeah, just as I suspected,” the boy finally said, rising back to his feet and turning toward the trio, though keeping his eyes locked on his notes. “It’s easy to see that these Pokémon are pitifully underdeveloped.”

“What do you mean _underdeveloped_?” the bat-wielding trainer said with a scowl. “And who asked your opinion?”

The bandana-clad trainer nodded. “Yeah, who made you the expert on our Pokémon, you punk?”

“Just who do you think you are?” the Spearow’s trainer added, hands on his hips.

“Oh, me?” the boy said, only now meeting the eyes of the trio. “My name’s Tracey. I’m a Pokémon Watcher.”

“Pokémon Watcher?” the Beedrill’s trainer said. “Well, maybe you should _watch_ whose business you’re getting into, punk. Now scram and leave us be! We’ve got training to do for the Orange Crew, and you’re wasting our time.”

“Oh, I’m going to have to insist on staying,” Tracey said, folding his arms and turning his glance toward the beached Lapras. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be just a baby. _Probably got separated from its group during that last big storm_, he thought to himself_._ “Now, tell me, what is it you’re doing to that Lapras? Because I doubt it belongs to any of you.”

“We told you it’s none of your business, punk,” the Hitmonchan’s trainer said, his scowl deepening. “Now get lost before I have my Hitmonchan deal with you.”

“Look at that Lapras, kid,” Tracey replied, his voice raising. “It clearly needs help. It looks really hurt.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some medicine. “Now, please, step aside and let me treat it.” He began taking steps forward.

“Stand back! Hitmonchan, don’t let him get any closer!”

“Hit-_mon_!”

With one punch, Tracey was knocked onto his rear, a painful red mark left on his cheek where the punch landed. He rubbed his cheek gingerly and gazed up at the trio.

The Spearow’s trainer, who appeared to be the ringleader, stepped forward. “Last chance to run, punk,” he said with a sneer.

The Hitmonchan’s trainer stepped forward next, rhythmically tapping his bat against the palm of his hand. “Yeah, or else we’ll _really_ have to teach you not to get in our way.”

Tracey scrambled back to his feet and reached for a Poké Ball. “I don’t think so,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Marill, come on out!”

“Marill!” Emerging from its Poké Ball, Marill immediately took a battle stance. Glancing at its trainer and then at the Lapras, Marill quickly understood the situation and hardened its otherwise soft, round face into a scowl.

“Pfft, your stuffed toy ain’t gonna protect you, punk,” the Spearow’s trainer sneered. “Let’s go, guys!”

“It’s battle time, Hitmonchan,” its trainer added. “Let’s knock it out!”

“Beedrill, let’s get buzzing!” the third added, clenching his fist.

“_Attack!_ ” the three ordered in unison.

“Dodge, Marill!” Tracey shouted, as all three opposing Pokémon charged forward, full-speed. Without a second to lose, Marill leaped into the air. “Now, counter with Water Gun!”

Before the trio’s Pokémon could react, they were doused by the attack.

“Hey, stop slacking off!” the Hitmonchan’s trainer said. “Use Comet Punch!”

“Hit-_mon_!” Shaking off the water, Hitmonchan turned and charged at the opposing Marill, pulling its fist back for a series of jabs. However, Marill easily outsped Himonchan, dodging again.

“Unbelievable!” the Hitmonchan’s trainer shouted, apoplectic. “What’s wrong with you, Hitmonchan?”

The ringleader stepped up, turning to his partner in crime. “Dude, how do you expect to beat the Orange Crew with battling like that? Here, let me show you how it’s done.” He turned back toward Marill. “Spearow, attack with Peck!”

Yet again, Marill briskly stepped out of the way, forcing Spearow to pass right by it.

“Water Gun!” Tracey ordered, and Marill quickly obeyed, its powerful jet of water slamming against Spearow’s face.

The ringleader stood slack-jawed, and his bat-wielding accomplice wasted no time in berating him back. “So, that’s how it’s really done, huh?” he said, cocking his eyebrow.

“Aw, shut it.”

Now, the Beedrill’s trainer stepped forward. “I guess it’s up to me, then. Beedrill, Fury Attack!”

Moving quickly, Beedrill closed the gap with Marill and began thrusting its stingers rapidly at the aqua mouse Pokémon. Though, like its comrades, it failed to land a single hit as Marill swiftly bobbed and weaved out of the way. Finally, seeing an opening, Marill launched another torrential blast point-blank at Beedrill, knocking it back and on the ground.

The Beedrill’s trainer gasped. “No way!”

“That punk beat all three of us!” the Hitmonchan’s trainer said in disbelief.

Cracking his knuckles, the ringleader glared at Tracey. “You havin’ fun, punk?” he said, making a break for Tracey. “Well, I’ll teach you to make a fool out of me!”

“_Stop right now!_ ”

In an instant, everyone stopped in their tracks and looked to the source of the shout. There, standing just above the beach, was Nurse Joy, a serious expression etched into her face.

“Uh oh, it’s the nurse from the Pokémon Center,” the ringleader said, an ice-cold chill running down his spine as he lowered his curled fist. “Let’s get out of here, boys!”

Without a moment to waste, the three trainers hastily recalled their Pokémon back to their Poké Balls and took off running, hoping that she didn’t get a good enough look at them to identify and disqualify them from the Orange League challenge altogether.

“Nurse Joy!” Tracey said.

The nurse made her way down onto the beach. “What’s going on here?” she asked.

“I heard a Pokémon crying out in pain, and came here to find those three creeps beating that Lapras with a bat. I tried to get them to step aside to let me administer medicine to it, but they attacked me, and, well, a battle ensued.”

“Marill, Marill!”

Nurse Joy nodded. “I see,” she said. “Let me take a look at Lapras, and then we’ll have a truck transport it up to my Pokémon Center.”

“Right.”

Taking a knee, Joy began her examination. However, with each move she made, Lapras resisted, knocking back her hands as she tried to feel around its body for possible wounds and bruising.

Finally, after a few minutes, she stood up and turned to Tracey. “Lapras doesn’t seem to have any serious injuries,” she said. “Once we get it to the Center, I can run some tests, but it looks like it just needs a good rest.”

Tracey nodded. “That’s good news.”

“However, there is a problem—that Lapras appears to be afraid to have any kind of contact with people at all.”

Tracey grimaced. “Well, no wonder, especially after those guys were beating it,” he said, downcast. “Even worse, considering it’s just an infant; must’ve gotten separated from its school during that last storm we had.”

“Well, there’s no time to waste,” she said. “I’m going to go get my truck so we can get it to the Center.”

“I’ll keep watch here, Nurse Joy,” Tracey said. “I want to make sure Lapras is all right. Right, Marill?”

“Marill!”

She nodded. “Well, all right. You did fight to protect Lapras, so I’m sure you want to make sure it’s safe. I’ll go get the truck, and we’ll both go up to the Pokémon Center with Lapras, Mister—um.”

“Oh, right, my name’s Tracey,” he said, scratching the back of his head in slight embarrassment. “Tracey Sketchit, at your service!”

* * *

_One month later._

“Good morning, Lapras!” Tracey said, beaming with energy. “Did you sleep well?”

Lapras happily squealed back. It hadn’t been easy, but day after day of interaction and care over several weeks had softened the Pokémon’s impression of the watcher, although it continued to be generally distrustful of people.

“That’s good to hear.” He extended his hand and began to rub the Pokémon’s smooth forehead, much to its pleasure. “This past month has been really informative, Lapras. I never thought I could learn so much by spending this much personal time with a Pokémon like you. You’re really fascinating.”

Just then, Tracey’s smile faltered slightly. Lapras, noticing both his change in expression and change in touch, tilted its head in confusion and uttered a quizzical cry.

“Huh?” Tracey snapped back to attention and locked eyes with Lapras. “Oh, sorry, Lapras. It’s—it’s nothing.”

Lapras nudged its head up against Tracey and squealed again.

“Aw, come on, Lapras,” he said, giggling. “I said it’s nothing.”

Suddenly, there was a faint sound in the distance. Tracey turned toward the far-off beach down the mountain and noticed a spout of water erupting into the air, which quickly dissipated to reveal a tan submarine.

“Hmm?” Tracey eyed the submarine with curiosity. Over the course of the month, he had seen a variety of boats come in and out of the island—but never a submarine. “I wonder who that could be?”

Reaching for binoculars in his backpack, Tracey affixed them to his eyes just in time to see a short, gray-haired man with round spectacles, unwieldy hair, and a pointed face accented by a large, bushy mustache and two equally bushy eyebrows, climbing out of the vessel.

“Tracey?”

Tracey yelped before tucking his binoculars back into his backpack and turning to see Nurse Joy, carrying a box of medical supplies. “Y-yes, ma’am?” he replied, jitters still running through his body.

“Did you finish giving Lapras its morning checkup?” she asked, placing her free hand on her hip.

“Ah, well, uh, I—I was just about to start, actually!”

She sighed. “Well, be sure to get to it. I’ve got something important I want to discuss with you after you’re done.”

“S-something important?”

“Right,” the nurse replied before turning around. “I’ve got one more thing to do, then I’ll meet you inside.”

“All right then,” Tracey said. “I’ll be done in a sec.”

As Nurse Joy walked away, a litany of thoughts swirled in the Pokémon Watcher’s mind.

_What could the important thing she wants to discuss be? _

_Maybe she plans to hire me as an official, full-time Pokémon Center assistant?_

_Or maybe it’s something to do with Lapras?_

_Or maybe…_

He gulped hard.

_…c-could she know?_

“_Eeeuh!_ ”

With that, he was snapped out of his thoughts and returned his attention to Lapras.

“Oh, sorry again, Lapras,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “It’s nothing. Here, let’s perform that checkup, buddy.”

Lapras squealed in delight as Tracey began the daily routine—a process that, weeks before, had taken nearly an hour to get done, but had since been whittled down to a quick, five-minute procedure as Lapras grew more and more cooperative.

“All right, that’s that,” he finally said, returning his tools to his backpack. “You’re looking great, Lapras.”

“Done, Tracey?”

It was Nurse Joy again.

“Just finished,” he replied.

“Good, now if you’d please follow me inside,” she said, “so we can talk.”

Making their way into the wood-lined interior of the Pokémon Center, the two took their seats at a table in the center of the room. Two freshly-made mugs of hot cocoa sat on each end of the table.

“So, what is it you wanted to tell me, Nurse Joy?” Tracey asked sheepishly.

The nurse took a sip from her mug, then turned to stare out the window, where she could see Lapras happily swimming with the other Water-type Pokémon. “Tracey, you’re an energetic young man, an aspiring Pokémon Watcher who could’ve spent this past month traversing the far reaches of the Orange Archipelago, sketching and studying all kinds of Pokémon, all in pursuit of your goal,” she said, a wistful tone in her voice, before meeting Tracey’s eyes again. “But instead, you’ve been cooped up here the whole time, and I feel a bit bad.”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing, Nurse Joy,” he replied, raising both hands, palms out, to shoulder-height. “You know I just want to be sure that Lapras is recovering. That’s what’s important now.”

“I know, but Lapras has been medically cleared for weeks,” she said. “I know you care deeply, Tracey, but I don’t like the idea of shackling you to this island, hoping for Lapras’s friends to one day come swimming by.” Taking another sip, she stood up. “Think about it. Sure, it’s only been one month, but what if they don’t come back next month? Or the month after that? Or a year from now? Are you really going to permanently put the brakes on your whole life to stay here?”

Tracey shuttered. “Y-you know, I didn’t really think about it that way. I was really only thinking about Lapras.”

“Well, sometimes it’s important not to forget about yourself.”

“Y-yeah, I guess.”

_Knock, knock._

“That must be him,” Nurse Joy said, before making her way to the door.

Tracey cocked his eyebrow. “Must be who?”

As the door swung open, in walked the mustachioed man from the submarine.

“Ah, welcome, Dr. Quackenpoker,” Nurse Joy said as the man stepped into the Pokémon Center. “I hope your trip went well.”

“Well, I have had a perfectly wonderful morning, but, so far, this hasn’t been it,” he said matter-of-factly, before turning his eyes to Tracey. “Ah, is this the boy you told me about?”

“Huh?” Tracey said, a quizzical look on his face as he stood up. “Excuse me, but who are you, sir?”

“Why, the last time I looked, I was Quincy T. Quackenpoker,” the man replied.

“Quackenpoker?”

“Yes, everybody in my family was named Quackenpoker—at least on my mother’s side.”

Tracey tilted his head in confusion. “O~kay,” he said. “So, what do you mean I’m the boy you were told about? Do you know Nurse Joy?”

Nurse Joy interjected. “Well, yes. You see, Dr. Quackenpoker is a very well-known Pokémon Watcher in the Orange Archipelago, and I’ve helped him with some of his research over the years.”

“Wait, that’s it!” Tracey said, suddenly perking up. “I knew I recognized your name, sir.”

“Well, I certainly hope so. Everybody should know about my lifetime of studying Magikarp.”

“A lifetime of studying Magikarp?” Tracey asked.

“Of course,” the doctor said with a smile. “Over fifty years of dedicated work to the study of Magikarp.”

Nurse Joy cleared her throat. “So, Tracey, I invited Dr. Quackenpoker to come here to see if you wanted to become his apprentice.”

Tracey’s heart practically stopped. “Ap-apprentice?”

She nodded. “I know just how much becoming a great Pokémon Watcher means to you, given all those stories and sketches you’ve shared with me, and I thought that you felt a bit tethered to the island, so I felt that I owed you something special—so I made the call.”

“N-Nurse Joy,” Tracey said, his hands shaking, “I-I don’t know what to say.”

She smiled. “Well, why don’t you show Dr. Quackenpoker some of your sketches?”

“Oh, uh, s-sure,” he replied, reaching into his backpack and passing the sketchbook to the doctor. “Go ahead.”

As Dr. Quackenpoker flipped through the book, his mouth stretched to a smile. “Ah, _excellent_,” he said. “You know, I see a great future ahead of you, young man.”

“Do you—do you really think so?” Tracey replied nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“Well, you certainly don't have a future behind you.”

Before Tracey could formulate a response, Nurse Joy interjected again. “So, Tracey, what do you say?”

“Um, well, I’m honestly flattered, Nurse Joy. I really am.” Then, he looked outside the window, to Lapras swimming in the pool with the other Pokémon. “But it’ll be hard to say goodbye to Lapras.”

Just then, Tracey felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see that it belonged to Nurse Joy.

“I knew you’d feel that way, Tracey,” she said with a smile. “That’s why I want you to take Lapras with you.”

Tracey was stunned, his jaw dropping open. “T-take Lapras with me?” he said. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, completely. I see how much you care about it, and know that it’d be more likely to run into its lost friends if it were traveling through the islands with you than if it just stayed cooped up here at the Pokémon Center.” She walked over to the door leading to the back and opened it. “So, go on. I’m sure Lapras will be thrilled.”

“Th-thank you, Nurse Joy,” Tracey said, his heart racing. “Now I really don’t know what to say.” With that, he looked toward the open door and made his way outside.

Noticing him, Lapras perked up and squealed with joy.

“L-Lapras—I’m—I’m going to be leaving,” he said.

In an instant, Lapras’s eyes grew sad. It was like those few words had literally sapped the energy right out of the Pokémon. Confused, it nuzzled against Tracey, its once joyful cry becoming weaker and softer.

Lip quivering and on the verge of tears, Tracey placed a hand on Lapras’s forehead and rubbed. “B-but Nurse Joy said you can come with me if you want.”

With that, it felt as if the temperature had dropped significantly. Ceasing its cry, Lapras backed away for a moment to process what the watcher had said, and with each moment of silence, Tracey felt his heart was being squeezed to its limit.

But then…

“_Eeeeeeeuh!_ ”

A warm feeling flowed through his body as Lapras smiled broadly and started playfully nuzzling him enthusiastically.

“So—so that’s a yes?” Tracey said, a tear dripping from his eye.

Lapras nodded.

Wiping the joyful tears away, Tracey straightened up and pulled out a Poké Ball from his backpack. “All right,” he said, tapping the ball against Lapras who then dematerialized into a red beam. With three shakes and a click, the capture was made. “Welcome to the team, Lapras.”

“Congratulations, Tracey.”

Tracey turned to see Nurse Joy, a beaming smile on her face.

“I know you two will have a blast together.”

Tracey nodded. “Yeah.”

With that, the doctor stepped forward. “You know, I usually don’t care to mentor the kind of people who would want someone like me as a mentor, but I think you’ll be a big help with my upcoming trip to Rind Island. Whaddaya say?” He extended his hand.

Nodding, Tracey reached out and shook it. “It’d be my honor, Dr. Quackenpoker.”

“Great,” he replied. “Say, why don’t we go for a walk so I can get you up to speed on what we’ll be doing for the next couple months. And then we’ll head out tonight.”

“Oh, uh, sure, sir,” Tracey said, nodding. “Lapras and I promise to be all the help we can be.”

With that, the two Pokémon Watchers made their way outside the Pokémon Center as Nurse Joy looked on with a smile.

“He’s such a nice kid,” she said softly to herself. “Lapras couldn’t’ve asked for someone better.”

_Ring, ring, ring._

“Hmm, now who could that be?” she asked as she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

…

“Oh, Professor Oak! It’s nice to hear from you.”

…

“Oh, really? A Pokémon lecture here on Tangelo Island? Next week?”

…

“That sounds good. I’m sure the people here will be thrilled. I’m looking forward to it, and I’ll help anyway I can.”

…

“Actually, I’ve had an assistant over the past month that has been helping me out with a lost Lapras.”

…

“Yeah, he’s a really good kid. A Pokémon Watcher.”

…

“You know, I wish you could meet him, but he’s leaving tonight to become an apprentice to Dr. Quackenpoker, the Pokémon Watcher, so he won’t get to see your lecture. Maybe some other time.”

…

“Quincy T. Quackenpoker.”

…

“Yes, the Magikarp guy.”


End file.
